


Much Better than a Fan Heater

by Daxii



Category: Free!
Genre: 1st person, M/M, Smut, slight humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one thing for it when the heating system goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Better than a Fan Heater

I couldn’t tell you _much_ about my next door neighbour, and in all honesty everything I _did_ know, I’d learned almost entirely unwillingly. Most obviously, he was one of those “artsy” types, if passing glances into his front room were anything to go by, at least. All the apartments in the complex had the same layout, and where I had a small sofa and a TV set up, and even a tiny dining table squeezed between the couch and the kitchenette, he had nothing but easels.

Secondly, he was eccentric. Right down to his attire. Again, accidental glances into his front room often found the man, Nanase, according to the label on his doorbell, wearing nothing more than jammers and an apron. I’m not trying to judge. People should be able to wear what they like in their own home. I may or may not too be guilty of donning attire I would _never_ be seen wearing in public. But that was the difference. I _couldn’t_ be seen.

And that brings me onto my third, and most notable observation about my neighbour: he has a terrible relationship with his front curtains.

I didn’t _mean_ to look. It was just hard not to, especially coming home from class or a shift later in the evening when the only significant light source in the vicinity just happened to be spilling out of his apartment, handily illuminating both the path and my front door. It was just _natural_ for human eyes to be drawn towards the light, wasn’t it? A healthy curiosity, nothing more.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t like there was nothing to look at, either. Despite the art, despite the clothes, despite his lax privacy habits, Nanase himself is definitely easy on the eyes.

And maybe wearing nothing but jammers isn’t _such_ a bad thing… especially when I get such a great view of that tight little ass and the perfect gap between his toned thighs every night when I’m opening up. I’ve not seen much of his face, though, as he often has his back to the window. Not that I’m complaining.

 

It’s a cold January morning and there’s been an incessant knocking on my door the entire time I’ve been trying to take my morning slash. I’m barely tucked back in when I march towards the door and wrench it open.

“Nanase?!” I blurt out his name in my shock, because there he is, just standing there in my doorway, and I watch his eyes widen a little and then cast towards the label my by doorbell. And would you look at that, the man owns actual _pants_.

“Yamazaki,” he breathes, in a quiet, deep, dull tone. At least that’s introductions out of the way. “Is your heating off?”

Is my… what? I pause and listen for the drone of the dated heating system, but there’s nothing, and to double check I reach my hand back to feel the radiator. The metal is stone cold.

“Yeah, my heating’s off… guess the whole building must be down. Do you think anyone’s called the landlord, yet?” I muse aloud.

“Oh… right… well I’ll just…” Go, perhaps? I still have bathroom business to attend to, after all.

He disappears back into his own apartment seconds later, without even a goodbye. I see him later on as I’m coming home from work, and idly debate telling him that _closing his fucking curtains_ might help to keep a little heat in. He’s sitting curled up on the floor with what looks to be his duvet wrapped around his shoulders, and there are thick sleeves covering his wrists where they poke out of the cocoon to hold the sketchbook and pencil. For the first time, he’s not facing away, and his head tilts up. There’s not much I can do other than lamely _smile_ because he’s _seen_ me looking in his window. His face remains expressionless, and he looks back to his work.

 

My eyes involuntarily cast over to his window as I leave the next morning, and he doesn’t even look like he’s moved. He’s still there when I’m on my way home after my afternoon classes, too. His stare follows me the entire time I move past the window, and it’s nothing short of relief when I finally get into my own warmer-than-it-should-be flat.

Because guess who’s the intelligent neighbour and actually went out and bought a cheap little fan heater just for the inevitable day that the heating system popped its clogs? Obviously not Nanase.

 

The next morning, there’s more incessant knocking on my front door. At least I’m more prepared to answer it this time. It’s Nanase standing in front of me, at least I think it is. It’s a bit hard to tell under all those layers.

“You… wouldn’t have a spare blanket or something going, would you?” he quietly asks, and I narrow my eyebrows.

“Uh… no, sorry. You know you _could_ pick up a heater for a few bucks in town… the one I’ve got isn’t the best, but it takes the worst of the chill off.”

“Bit skint,” Nanase shrugs, and I feel rude for expecting anything more.

“Do you… want to come in?”

His mouth hangs open in contemplation, like he’s trying to decide if this is a bad an idea as I’m starting to think it is, but eventually nods.

“I’ll just go and… get some things.”

Get some things?

Right. Nanase might have taken that little invitation a bit too much to heart when he lets himself in a few minutes later, duvet around his shoulders, sketchbook under his arm, pencils in his teeth and steaming pot of broth in his hands. I go to help him, quite intent on taking the food rather than actually lessening his burden, but none the less he looks relieved.

“Make yourself…” not at home. _Definitely_ not at home. “Comfortable,” I tell him. “I’ll serve this up. Thanks for bringing it.”

The broth _does_ smell good, after all.

Somehow, I expected such an arty, quirky, and obviously outgoing guy to be much more talkative, or at least more _expressive_ , than he’s turning out to be, just sitting there on my floor nursing a portion of stew, still bundled in blanket. I can’t tell if it’s an awkward silence or not but I’m getting the impression that I’m the one who’s supposed to initiate any kind of conversation.

“So you’re… an artist?” I ask, just to make sure. He nods, barely looking up – if he can even turn his head within those layers, that is. “That’s… interesting.”

“You don’t care about art,” he responds, and while that’s _true_ , I’m definitely taken aback by his bluntness, and just how had he _known_?

I decide to ignore his comment, and make an attempt at deciphering just how long he actually intends to stay.

“Warmed up a little?”

“A little…”

I snort and he shoots me an irritated glare. Not that he has _any_ right to be the irritated one, ungrateful git.

But strangely enough, I find myself being more endeared than anything else by Nanase’s behaviour. His presence isn’t as annoying as I often find company to be. That’s not saying I don’t have _friends_ , of course I do, I just prefer privacy in my own home. Years of boarding school can have that effect.

“That was great,” I say, setting my empty bowl down on the table behind me. He was a good cook.

Silently, Nanase unwraps himself and heads to the back of the room to the kitchen, grabbing my bowl on the way. It would probably be polite to pull the “oh, no, I’ll do it” host thing, but I hate washing up. Kid can do it if he wants. On his return, he sits next to me and pulls the duvet up into his lap. It’s not the biggest couch in the world but Nanase is scrawny enough that he doesn’t take up much room.

Remember when I said I’d bought that cheap little fan heater? Well, you get what you pay for. There’s a cough from the chunk of plastic, followed by another, louder sort of splutter, and then a puff of steam through the top intake. The whirring of the fan blades slow to a depressing halt, and all I can do is stare at it.

But all Nanase is doing is staring at _me_.

“Guess your place isn’t much better than mine, now,” he grumbles sulkily, an obvious pout on his face.

“Oh shut up. At least we can be cold together,” I half tease, half groan. “Share,” I demand, and tug on the duvet.

He grunts but relents, and pulls his lithe legs up into a ball to save his toes from the _already_ chilling air, and it’s not long before I follow suit. It’s cramped, but with a silent, mutual agreement we both shuffle slightly to lean back against each arm and our legs slot in between each other in the middle. I turn on the telly and he reaches for his sketchbook, and we spend a good hour or so doing nothing besides that and breathing, but all the heat has gradually leaked from the flat, and I feel a pressing against my butt.

I shift and twitch, unsure what’s under the covers, but whatever it is it’s _cold_ and I can feel it even through my warm sweatpants. I look up at Nanase, wondering if he’s getting a similar feeling too, but just from the _smirk_ on his face I realise what it is.

“Is that your _foot?!_ ” I demand, reaching under the covers and grabbing the sock-clad little limb.

“You’re warm,” Nanase replies, not even a lilt in his voice even though I’ve probably hurt him slightly with how roughly I’ve wrenched his foot away.

“And you’re _freezing_ ,” and I can’t help but feel a _little_ bad for how cold he must have been alone in his house. Urgh. What’s coming over me? “We could… get the duvet from my room?” I offer.

“Or we could just _go_ to your room.”

I look at him then, really, really look at him. His black hair frizzed from the frigid air, stoic, sculptured face, long, lean neck… I’d been missing out spending so much time looking at the back of him.

“What are you implying, Nanase?”

He shrugs, but stands up, and I have to follow because he’s taking the duvet with him and _god_ is it cold without it. I shut the bedroom door behind us, not entirely sure what was going on as the blue marshmallow turned around to face me.

“Uh…” is all I can muster, because what’s supposed to be going on here?

Nanase blinks. “You like my ass, right?” he asks curtly, and I will the blush away from my face.

“Maybe,” I force out, pretending to remain collected.

This is really happening right now, isn’t it?

Nanase takes a step towards me.

 _Yep_.

“You sure about this?” I ask, even though _he’s_ the one backing _me_ into the wall.

“Yes.”

The plaster is cold on my back, even through my thick sweater, but that’s not where my attention lies, because all I can see, all I can feel, all I can _smell_ is Nanase and…

What’s that?

“Why do you smell like mackerel?” I grumble, even as I reach out to pull him flush to my body by his slim waist.

“I _like_ mackerel,” he haughtily huffs, slipping both hands under my sweater and shirt and rubbing them up my sides like little ice blocks.

I hiss at the contact, but at the same time, it’s _nice_ , and I moan into his neck when he takes each of my nipples between his fingers and thumbs. They’re not just hard from the cold any more. I move both my hands down to cup his bottom, kneading the taut rump with a grin. It’s _perfect_. I slide them down further, running them to the inside of each thigh and spread my grip as far as I can and then _lift_.

“Skinny little thing, aren’t you?” I can’t help but comment.

He wraps his legs around my waist and locks his ankles together. His duvet is long forgotten, having fallen from his shoulders and haphazardly splayed half on the bed, trailing onto the floor. I feel him tremble at the loss and he presses tight into my chest, but his back arches so his head is a little ways out, looking directly at me, eyes sparkling. One hand supporting him, I use the other to take his cheek in my palm and bring him closer.

“You’re _positive_?” I ask again.

“Just get _on_ with it,” he insists, and brings our mouths together in a kiss a lot rougher than I’d been expecting such a delicate little mouth to muster.

“Alright, alright,” he’s positive. I look over at the bed. “Normally I wouldn’t do this _in_ the bed. Wet spots, and all that… but…” we share a look.

“Get a towel,” he says impatiently.

I hitch up his slipping weight with my good arm and walk over to the wadrobe, opening the left side that is lined with shelves, and pull out a large towel with one hand, making Nanase keep hold of it. I got to wrap my arm back around him, but a thought hits me, and I slip the hand into the back of his pants instead.

He yelps. I squeeze.

“Hmm, like that?” I hum against his ear. He seems to like that, judging by the way he moans, so I squeeze again.

It’s disappointing to have to pull my hand out so I can peel back the covers, but at least things are progressing. He wraps the towel around his shoulders, and for a moment I don’t know what he’s doing.

“Put me on my back,” he says, and suddenly it makes sense.

I get on my knees on the bed and shuffle into the middle, tipping downwards until Nanase’s back hits the mattress, and he spreads his arms out to splay the towel across the sheet, and I help by tugging it down around his legs. His knees are bent up, and I’m kneeling between them. Towel arranged, his hands reach for me, so I move closer, covering his body but not pressing my weight down, and we kiss again.

“Mm… shouldn’t kiss hook-ups,” he rumbles against my lips.

However, I don’t see anything wrong with it, personally. Plus, _he_ started it. But if that’s the case, I can think of other things to occupy my mouth. I gather the duvet over us first, and even though there’s a large gap because it’s draped over my back, it’ll do enough to keep the heat in. Nanase shivers all the same when I slide my hands under his clothes, dragging the tee-shirt and jumper up in one and go to tug it over his head. He’s making short work of mine too, so I let him get it off before I fill my mouth again, this time with his nipple.

I swirl my tongue and suck, good arm holding me up so as not to crush him, other hand tweaking his other nipple. Having a dicked out shoulder makes it difficult to swap sides, but Nanase’s got his own hands busy between our groins, undoing the button and fly on his jeans and then dipping his fingers into the hem of my pants and boxers, tugging them down and letting my cock spring free. I lick up to his neck, then kneel back to shuffle my pants all the way off and tug his down too.

The cold obviously hasn’t been affecting him _that_ much.

I take his cock in my hand, and though it’s not the _biggest_ thing I’ve ever seen, it’s not disappointing. More than a handful. Definitely more than a mouthful.

 He’s already leaking, and who am I to resist a taste?

“Mm, sweet,” I say aloud, licking my lips and then back over his tip.

“I’m partial to pineapple,” he quietly replies, voice somehow still mellow and unaffected.

“Good habit to keep,” I decide, and take his head entirely in my mouth.

He pulls the duvet up a bit, and my head is completely covered, but it doesn’t particularly bother me. Nanase lies there, almost lazily, while I suck him, and it’s only when I go to fondle his balls with one hand that he shudders, and it’s obviously from pleasure.

“Wouldn’t be trying to keep quiet for my benefit, would you?” I ask, sliding back up in bed and lying on my side, turning his face towards me with one hand.

“N-no…” he breathes, eyes lidded, and _gasps_ when I take his dick in hand again and pump him with a strong grip.

I make an internal vow to find his volume control, and turn it up. I reach over him to the bedside table, where the lube is kept. Nanase looks at me, oddly.

“You do this often?” he asks, making a motion with his hand to refer to our spontaneous coupling.

“I wouldn’t say _often_ …” once is more like it, and not at all since my break up with a serious partner, but Nanase doesn’t need to know that. He just needs to spread his legs.

He’s so confident that in the back of my mind I wonder if _he_ does this often, but ultimately decide I don’t care. I flip open the cap of the bottle in my hand and slick up the fingers of my left hand – my good arm – and descend it back under covers, nudging Nanase’s legs apart with a jab to each thigh with my thumb.

“Mean,” he grumbles. I’d kiss him if he’d let me.

“You’re cute.”

He pulls a disgruntled face and looks away, but his gaze shoots back when I push my index finger into his hole, not even bothering to tease the rim beforehand.

“I feel like we should flip a coin to see who tops,” he says, with the slightest of shrugs, still trying to maintain nonchalance.

“Don’t think I can satisfy you?” I take his hand and move it to my cock, which he’s barely gotten a glance at so far. He bites his lip. “Or scared I might rip you apart?”

“Depends how you use it, doesn’t it?”

Sassy little shit.

I push another finger in and he lets out the smallest little pleasured whimper, almost like a purr.

He palms at me, little hands still a little cold, but they’re soft and his artist’s fingers _certainly_ know what they’re doing. I add another finger in response, it’s a bit of an effort and that’s definitely a wince Nanase’s trying to cover up, so I pause until he opens his screwed up eyes and gives me a harsh look.

“You good?”

“Mm,” he grunts, and lets out a long breath as I start to pump and twist my fingers. His eyes slip shut and his mouth parts slightly, and all I can do is stare at the pink of his tongue poking out.

I curl my fingers, and his eyes shoot open again and there’s nothing he can do to silence the moan he lets out. “Yeah, that’s it,” I breathe, and then back away from the spot.

He glares at me, squeezing his hand hard around my cock.

“Don’t be so spoiled,” I caution, bringing my head in closer to his and licking along his jaw. If he wants more of that, he’ll have to make more of those little noises, won’t he? “Think you’re ready?”

He nods, and gasps when I pull out my fingers. I wipe them off on the towel – convenient thing, this – and reach over him again for a condom, dragging the rough edge of the foil just lightly over his chest, just enough to tickle, as I bring it back and sit up, and then climb over his nearest knee to kneel between his legs.

The duvet has fallen back behind me, but Nanase’s black eyes don’t look bothered. I pump myself a few times, getting totally hard, and I’m almost embarrassingly slick from pre-cum. Nanase’s eyes bore impatiently into me as I take a second to roll the condom on, so once done I stick two fingers back in, which seems to pacify him. I pull them out to the first knuckle and spread as wide as I can. I’m getting the impression he likes it as rough as I do, but I don’t actually want to hurt him.

I align and look down at him, chest and neck flushed with lust, and he looks impatient again. Normally, I’d have wanted to tease, just to punish him for being so demanding, but he looks so _hot_ and _desperate_ already that I can’t bring myself to do it. He moans a little when I pull my fingers all the way out, and raises his hips to help with the angle.

“Good boy,” I say softly, pushing the head in, and stop, stroking his hip with my right hand while my left goes to the back of him to help keep him up. “You alright?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he gasps, though he doesn’t exactly look it, squint in his eye and biting his lip, but maybe this is how he likes it. I push on, until I’m fully seated inside and _that’s_ a moan, oh, god, he moans so loud and so _lewd_ that it drags one out of me as well.

I satisfy his needy glare by rocking my hips back and forth just a little, giving him friction but still giving him time to adjust. I set his hips back down on the bed and lean over him again, propped up, but pressing, skin on skin, and when he bucks up it’s _almost_ overwhelming, definitely too much for my mouth to take, and I’m suddenly kissing him again, demanding access to his mouth with my tongue. Realising my mistake, how he doesn’t want _this_ , I go to pull back, but before I can he weaves a hand into my hair and opens up, taking the first move in tangling our tongues. I open my eyes to try and see what he’s thinking, but his are closed.

Deciding he’s ready, I begin to thrust in earnest, and it’s not long before he can’t keep kissing, because he just _has_ to let out that moan, but it cuts off half way through and his eyes fly open.

“Oh _god_ ,” he groans, and I’ve hit that spot.

“You can call me Sousuke,” I tease, licking his neck.

I get a spank for that. But I probably deserve it. I let out a little chuckle, but really, this is starting to get the best of me too. I grab hold of his dick, determined not to unravel first. He pants and takes my mouth in another kiss, and of course I’m willing to kiss back, holding onto his hips as he rises up to meet me.

“What happened to not kissing?” I ask, voice wet and breathy.

He doesn’t respond with words, but when I dip back in for more, he bites my lip. To be honest, I probably deserved that one too.

Moaning into my mouth, he cums hard in my hand, hips jerking up even as I slow my thrusts to let him ride it out gently, before he collapses back, panting hard. I move slowly, not wanting to over stimulate him, but he shoots his harsh _look_ and _squeezes_ his already tight ass around me and that’s it, he’s being fucked into this mattress before he can even stop trembling from his own orgasm. His release sticks between our chests as I set more of my weight into him, and pound as hard as I can, inadvertently biting into his collar bone. He makes an angry little mewl, but doesn’t otherwise push me off.

I finally finish, as deep inside him as I can get, and I’m so exhausted I can’t even thrust through it.

He turns suddenly gentle, despite how hard I’ve done him, and strokes up and down my back as I catch my breath, even though I must be heavy on his wiry frame. I sit up, after what could have been five seconds or five minutes, but I’m collected enough to cleanly dispose of the condom and take the edges of the towel beneath us to wipe us both down. We get it out from under us and it joins our clothes on the floor. I flop down, and reach an arm out to wrap around Nanase, but he’s not there.

Confused, I crane my neck to find him, right as he’s nesting back down. Apparently he’d gone to grab the duvet. I bundle him close and give an apologetic kiss to the mark I’ve made.

“You,” I huff, breaking the silence, “are _amazing_.”

“Actually,” he quips, not missing a beat, “I’m Haru.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a) writing a one-shot, b) writing in first person and c) writing hard smut.  
> PLEASE leave me feed back with how I've done on all three of these things. I know leaving comments on smut is awkward... but I'd really appreciate criticism and comments to let me know how I've done with this, I've been working on this all day.
> 
> (And now I'll go and write more of Starpool and KBTC, yes I'm sorry I got distracted again)


End file.
